The Great Wizard Endeavor
by Izwick
Summary: Twenty years after the Battle of Hogwarts, a new wizarding school has been founded in America, and though there are no Dark Lords interrupting the magical education, new student Thea Le Rine quickly discovers the school is not without problems of its own. For now just a prologue, but if people like the idea, I will soon write more! So please review.


_A/N: So… I was thinking how cool it would be to read a fanfiction about a wizarding school, like Hogwarts, in America, with new characters, and references to Harry Potter Characters. But since I couldn't find one, I decided to write one myself. This here is essentially a prologue, to see if anyone is actually interested in the idea. If not, I'll abandon it, but if you guys like it, let me know, and I'll write more!_

THE GREAT WIZARDING ENDEAVOR

Prologue:

The tiny farming town of Drumberly was strategically placed slam-dunk in the middle of nowhere, and let me tell you, that town was _hopping_ with life and vivacity. Every single one of its 900 inhabitants knew how to party, including the old crank Rich Gineheart who lived next door. And by party, I mean doing absolutely nothing but working in the fields, washing socks, and gossiping about my mother the Witch.

That's why I have hated Drumberly from the very moment we arrived here, almost four years ago, in 2014. Not because it is boring enough to put to sleep even the most easily amused of men. It's because the people here can't seem to separate the words "evil" and "witch".

We moved here because my grandpa left us some property in the town when he died, and my mother decided that New York was not a great place to raise a teenage girl. I was excited at first, when we were packing our things, getting ready to leave our tiny apartment. The idea of going new places appealed to me, and still does.

And even once we arrived, saw how crumby the small house was, how dirty the little town, it was still okay. Something new. A place to start a new life, right? But I knew how bad it would be only fifteen minutes after mom had hung the little hand-painted sign listing her services ("Madame Le Rine: Fortune Telling, Potion Brewing, and Minor Spell Casting") right outside our door.

While we were trying to figure out how to maneuver my mattress up the tiny stairs, we heard a delicate knock on the door, and, upon opening it, were first introduced to Mrs. Hurston. Petite. Blond. Smiling. And the Devil Incarnate.

"Hel-_lo_, I'm Karen Hurston, and you must be the new neighbors!" She simpered, extending a hand. After shaking our hands rather limply, she began: "Now, I must say, I am a little curious about that… _quaint _sign you have put up. You don't actually mean you're a witch, right?'

I was twelve at the time, but even then I could see that tired shadow in my mother's grey eyes. And I could see even more plainly the coldness in the eyes of Mrs. Hurston.

"Yes" my mother nodded quietly. "Yes, I suppose you could say I am a witch."

Mrs. Hurston's eyes widened and she took a step backwards. In that moment, I swear, I hated even more than the father who walked out on us. "Oh! Oh I see!"

And with that she retreated across the street into her own house without as much as a goodbye, leaving my mother standing awkwardly on the steps and me glowering right behind her.

Things haven't improved since then. Few of our neighbors are quite as genteel and delicate as Mrs. Hurston, but all of them share the same stupid prejudice against witchcraft, as though my mother had made dealings with the devil himself.

The next few years were so hard. In New York, you actually can make a living as a witch. But in Drumberly, the only people who came to have their fortune told were teenagers daring each other to face the wrath of the witch. So my mother went looking for jobs, and every night that she came home after being turned down again, I saw her grow a little older, a little greyer.

Eventually Yolanda, the massive, perpetually-scowling proprietor of Yolanda's Diner hired my mom as a cook and dishwasher, because Yolanda didn't care diddly-squat about anything except money. After that, things got a little better, but not much. Sometimes, during the summer, I would get work as a farmhand, so that I could buy my own clothes, and help with the groceries.

But come fall, I would be sent back off to school, despite my protestations, where the kids did not know what to make of me. I looked all sweet and innocent, thanks to my stupid big blue eyes, and loopy golden curls (that I would have shaved if mom had let me), but the kids soon came to realize I was about as sweet and innocent as a bloodthirsty hyena.

One word about witches, and my evil mother, and I would lash out, sometimes verbally, but mostly physically. Yet no matter how times I was sent to the principal's office, they never expelled me. And you want to know why? They were afraid of my mother, and what she could do. They never said so. But I could see it in their eyes as she walked down the street. My sweet, kind mother, who would no more put a spell on someone than she would volunteer to be burnt at the stake.

But my mother told me not to get too angry, to just calm down. Because if I got too upset, I might accidentally reveal the secret we had been hiding ever since arrived. That I, rebellious, snarky Thea Le Rine, was also a witch.

Actually, I don't like calling myself a witch. When people hear "witch", they think of a little, scabby old lady hunched over a cauldron, muttering gabbldy-gook. But that's not we do, my mother and I. my mother has her specialty, which is looking along the pathways of people's lives. No muttering involved. And I certainly don't have the patience for that delicate art, but I can move things. Change things. Destroy things. All with just a thought or emotion.

I'm not great at magic, though. In fact I kinda suck at it, but it's so unpredictable for me, and I have no idea how to control it. Really need to magically multiply our measly supplies of groceries? Yeah, no can do. Need to express my anger by magically setting a tree on fire? Sure, no problem.

The first time I ever used magic was when I was six, and my mother found me trying to cut my hair with scissors.

"THEDOSIA, _what_ do you think you are doing?!" my mother had screeched, staring helplessly at the clumps of hair scattered on the floor. "Haven't I told you _never_ to play with scissors?"

Even then I was sassy. "Not to worry, mommy. Look, more hair." I squeezed my eyes shut, took a deep breath, and Poof! My hair was roughly three feet long and insanely frizzy. At first my mom was furious and upset because this showed I had inherited her magical talent, even if in a different form. But then she just thought it funny, and called me Rapunzel for weeks afterward.

I'm sixteen now, and my control over magic hasn't improved much. Yesterday, on my birthday, I was very happy with the one present received (a second-hand laptop that my mother had been saving up to buy for months), and leaping to hug mom, I accidentally increased the flames on the candles enough to singe the ceiling.

Awkward, I know. But it's the only unusual thing that had happened in weeks. Until this evening, that is, when everything in my entire life changed.

I was sitting in our little living room that mom painted vibrant blue in a fit of artistic frenzy, doing homework, while watching out of the front window to make sure the neighbor kids don't try and egg our house again. And as I was putting the finishing touches to an ironic essay about discrimination, I sensed motion out of the corner of my eye, and, looking at our street already veiled in evening gloom, I saw a grumpy looking man dressed all in black robes with a gigantic owl perched on one shoulder walking down the street, with a letter clutched in one hand.

And as I watched in fascination, I realized that this strangely-dressed man was heading right for our front door.

_A/N: Right, so, there it is. I have ideas, and plots, and characters, and everything, so if anyone wants me to continue, please leave a review! And if I don't get any, I'll know to just leave it alone. Thank you for reading! Oh, and if anyone can think of a better name for this story, please let me know, because I think the current one is lame, but it's all I could come up. Again, thank you!_


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